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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30014442">what's beyond compare</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottie_wan_kenobi/pseuds/dottie_wan_kenobi'>dottie_wan_kenobi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>ATLA Fics [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aang &amp; Katara Friendship, Aang &amp; Toph Friendship - Freeform, F/M, Fate &amp; Destiny, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Past Lives, Reincarnation, Soulmates, Star-crossed, Zuko and Katara are Oma and Shu, in this house we stan kya and ursa, its not really discussed but due to the nature of reincarnation Z/K are bisexual, past lives deaths</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:42:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,075</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30014442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottie_wan_kenobi/pseuds/dottie_wan_kenobi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avatar spirit is not the only one which reincarnates. Ancient recognizes ancient. When that soul splinters one fateful night at the hands of the spirits, it takes almost one hundred years for the other half to be reborn. But two elements are not enough, and the ancient and powerful spirits of Oma and Shu are not quite done with their mortal labor.</p><p>--<br/>A story of fated love, destruction and rebuilding, angst, and comfort. Maybe not in that order.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Oma/Shu (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>ATLA Fics [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2186028</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello. it's 4 am, and though this is for Zutara Month 2021, I... got impatient and wanted to post this first chapter today. there's gonna be a few chapter, not sure how many yet but I imagine 5 is probably the absolute most. I have no idea what happened to me -- I was in a block for weeks where everything I tried to write just felt forced, but this thing practically wrote itself. I'm at about 12.5k so far and not done yet. we shall see</p><p>disclaimer: please don't take the spiritualism too seriously here. I basically just wrote what fit the AU. it's not meant to mock, replicate, or represent any real life religion or ideas. </p><p>fic title from Yours by Ella Henderson</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Avatar was not the only spirit that reincarnated. Many spirits had their own cycles, human one life and nature the next several turns, if they decided to try again at all. Coming back to the mortal world as a human took energy that, for any normal spirit, would take several lives to regenerate. Those that could be human time and time again were the strongest of spirits, respected far and wide, often living to be quiet ancient and powerful.</p><p>Two of these were the spirits of Oma and Shu.</p><p>They were different in that they rarely reincarnated, but always came back to mortal life as humans. Always in times of strife; always meant to change the world.</p><p>Shu did not always die, but it was a common, tragic end, a blow Oma would never recover from, even after their mortal lives ended. These scars were buried deeply, carried from one life to the next. Shu’s fate was to be the catalyst; Oma’s to destroy and rebuild. Each reunion in the spirit world was teary-eyed and frantic—they weren’t meant to be apart. And though they were often separated in the mortal world, the spirit plane was different. They were together, and they did not leave the other’s side for anything except their next lives.</p><p> </p><p>The day the young Air Avatar ran away, face first into a storm of destiny, the spirit world was quiet, its breath held. Oma and Shu did not feel the pull they so rarely did, and stayed together in their sunny meadow, unaware of what was to come.</p><p>One moment, all was normal, the peace shuddering but still staying strong. Then, with both all too little and all too much warning, there was swiftly an influx of spirits, a flood which overwhelmed nature itself as it dragged on and on. The sun flickered and wavered; the moon appeared in the sky much too early; the ocean stopped turning.</p><p>The air nomads, terrified and clinging to each other as they wouldn’t have in life, were sure that the mighty spirits were angry. Those that knew—that accepted they had passed on, and that there was a little boy somewhere with the weight of the world falling upon his shoulders—were more interested in finding the Avatar. A monk called Gyatso ran amongst his people, his heart breaking all over again at the number of children he saw. Every time he turned a boy around and saw one he knew—but not the one he was looking for—it thudded in his chest; if he were alive, it would hurt, how harshly it beat.</p><p>Suddenly the world shone bright, bloody red. Agni faded back into his normal shine, and Tui went back to silently and invisibly (for now) watching. La was brought to shore once again. The Nomads could not relax, even as relief swept through parts of the crowd. The calm was just as vast and unknowable as the chaos. Children, scared, huddled together. Couples clung to each other, and others stood back to back, sure there would be more displays of divine—rage? Grief? They weren’t to know. </p><p>In the midst of this, another soul joined the masses. They were unlike the others, who were young and hale, not yet ready to be back to this place—they were ancient and incomprehensible. Yet, at the same time, diminished; scarred. There were spots on their body that flickered in and out of sight, and others which held strong and visible.</p><p>“The Avatar,” Gyatso knew. He knew the boy, and he knew this being on some level, able to recognize that understated power anywhere. But the spirit of the Avatar did not live in the Spirit World, nor did it ever stay after its life was ended. </p><p>The pale eyes of this new spirit flickered to Gyatso. “He lives,” they said, voice a pained rasp. There was not supposed to be pain here, but supposed-to’s never withstood reality. “The boy lives.”</p><p>But in what condition, Gyatso didn’t dare ask. He believed he knew, and the truth was too much for him, in that moment. He bowed to the Avatar, the half-soul, and walked away with his heart in his throat.</p><p> </p><p>For some time, there was inescapable tension hanging in the air of the spirit world. </p><p>Some of the Air Nomads moved on, becoming plants and animals, desperate to be home again however they could be. Others haunted their old temples with an earnestness that brought tears to the eyes of those that wandered, who brought back devastating news of war. More powerful spirits amongst the Nomads returned to life as humans, drawing on the energy they had left over from their too-short previous lives, and found each other again. </p><p>There weren’t many air benders still living, after the genocide, but those that did created small groups, put down roots and lived inconspicuous lives where no one but their families ever knew they could bend.</p><p> </p><p>The severed soul moved about from one place to the next, never quite staying anywhere for long. They could not see where they were going, but felt tugs on their very faint heartstrings that left them going one way or the other. They were always so cold, and so alone, hands out not to find their way, but to find their balance. Their other half.</p><p>Every spot they were brought to was empty, the missing pieces of their very being nowhere to be found.</p><p>Oma and Shu stayed in their meadow. It was safe there, secluded and favored by Agni, who kept a pocket of light forever shining for them. It was the half-spirit that alerted them something was going on in the mortal world. They visited them frequently, searching for something they could not give. </p><p>“I feel you,” they said, a hand fisted over their thin chest. “I feel <em> that </em>. Don’t you feel it too?”</p><p>Oma and Shu only knew of one pull such as that. The call back to the mortal world. But it did not call them to other spirits, and never each other until the new life had already begun.</p><p>“Come,” said Shu kindly, reaching out a gentle hand. “Why don’t you sit with us?”</p><p>“It’s very nice here,” said Oma. They never let outsiders enter their sanctuary, but ancient recognized ancient, and Oma was sure no half-soul could hurt Shu. Not there, not under Agni’s careful and giving eye. “We shall meditate and see what we find.”</p><p>Reluctantly, the half-soul joined them on the soft grass. As one, all three spirits closed their eyes and envisioned their futures.</p><p> </p><p>The half-soul saw a face. Shrouded in icy blue, the features were difficult to make sense of. But the feelings attached were that of complete and utter rightness, belonging, matched. They could feel even from so different a plane that this soul was halved, too.</p><p>Oma saw lightning. There were no other features to this vision, just a terrible crack cutting through the air and a bolt aimed by no one, heading nowhere. A familiar, awful fear grew in Oma’s chest. It wasn’t headed nowhere, they knew. It was headed for Shu.</p><p>Shu saw something much different. They saw the Fire Nation. There was a crowd below them, the features blurry, the accompanying shouts muffled. But they knew the feeling of the people, the joy, the acceptance. An invisible hand took hold of Shu’s, and peace filled their very being as they realized they were right where they needed to be. Alive, and with Oma.</p><p> </p><p>Alone, the half-soul stumbled away. No other spirit dared to harm them, for the first and only time one tried, the power of the Avatar reacted harshly, forcing the attacker away. But the half-soul didn’t feel safe—they felt the holes where their other half should have been very keenly.</p><p>This just wouldn’t do, they came to realize. They could not be weak here, especially considering the numbers of Fire Nation soldiers who were passing every day now.</p><p>Vowing to be stronger, the half-soul found a spot that was blessed by Tui. It was dark and blessedly quiet except for the ever-present tugging in their chest. They closed their eyes against the blurry nothingness they always saw, and looked inside of themself instead. </p><p>Piece by piece, over nearly a hundred years, they built up their empty spots as much as they could. They would always have those spots, the shadows of aching loss lingering, but they made themself whole.</p><p>Still, the tugging never left.</p><p> </p><p>Oma was not ready when the pull to the mortal world came once again. They never were—the pain of knowing what was to come was nearly as bad as having to leave Shu behind. They would be separated. They would have to find each other. They would have to change the world, and Shu would almost surely be killed for all their efforts.</p><p>Shu held their face in their hands. Eyes meeting, Shu pressed a kiss to their lips and said softly, “We will be together again, my love. One way or another. This time will be different.”</p><p>Oma didn’t want to cry, but it was so difficult. Forcing their posture straight, they gave Shu one last smile. Forced though it may have been, they both knew it was best to leave on a happy note, even if it was false.</p><p>Then, each step feeling like it was fated, Oma returned to the world of mortals.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this chapter, like most of them, has a TW of grief/mourning. there are no "on screen" deaths, but three are discussed, including Kya's</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation was born in the fall, as afternoon turned to night, screaming until he was red. A bad sign, his father said with disgust. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother brushed his short, dark hair away from his teary face. She could sense there was something about this child that was different. Scared for her baby, she didn’t tell the Sages about it when they came. But there was no hiding it from her brother-in-law, who held him in his arms and said, grave and regretful, “The spirits have not blessed this boy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he cursed?” Ursa whispered, eyes wet as she reached for her son. Ozai had wanted to kill him, and revulsion had raised inside of her like never before. But if Zuko was cursed, then… she would protect him however she could. Even if that meant doing the worst.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I cannot say for sure,” Iroh replied, laying Zuko gently back into her arms. “But I don’t think so. We will have to wait and see.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, daughter of Kya and Hakoda, was born in the spring, so late at night it was early. The elders blessed her and Kya both as they laid in a mess of furs, her brother Sokka watching the proceedings anxiously. He stayed close to his dad as the rest of the tribe came to praise Kya and offer congratulations to the whole family. Bato chuffed Sokka’s chin and Sokka laughed, too young to realize it but all the same, relieved that that hadn’t changed like so much else had that day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was Kanna who first saw that Katara was different, feeling a resistance when she asked the spirits to protect and spare the little girl. When the other elders tried, there was the same sensation—a silence where there should have been a wolf’s howl, a stillness where there should have been wind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does it mean for her?” Kya asked, clutching Katara to her chest. Hakoda sat beside her, his arms around her shoulder and Sokka’s stomach, holding him close on his lap. Sokka’s birth, unlike Katara’s, had been difficult, but there’d been no spiritual issues. He’d been blessed and Hakoda’s father, the now-passed Chief Betadi, had proclaimed him to have the support of many behind him. What did it mean that one child was overly protected by the spirits, and one child was completely ignored?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure. We can only hope that someday they will notice her.” Kanna didn’t look down while she delivered the bad news; they deserved more than that. Nevertheless, they all knew that this would be unlikely. To not be blessed was a death sentence in the Water Tribes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kya didn’t cry, though Hakoda did have to wipe his eyes. Sokka didn’t understand what was going on, but hugged his father anyway. Baby Katara snored slightly in her mother’s arms, unconcerned with the matters of the spirits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The three adults came together later that night. Their only hope was that if she stayed close to her brother, his luck would protect her as well. It wasn’t much to hang their faith on, but it would have to be enough.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Zuko had an imaginary friend, growing up. He never shared much about them with his family, not even Ursa, but that was in part because he didn’t know how to explain. He knew his friend was real, and yet not at the same time. He saw them in all different ways, most often a man in blue, but other times as a woman in yellow or red, or a young man in green. No matter how they looked, he could always tell it was them, a spark in his very soul that said this person was </span>
  <em>
    <span>the one</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The friend had many names, and they existed on the edge of his tongue, never to be said, never to be remembered. But that was okay, he thought. As long as they were there with him, it was all okay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Secretly, just to himself, he thought of them as </span>
  <em>
    <span>his love</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It only felt right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His dreams were haunted by dangers unseen. He woke to midnight storms during the rainy seasons, screaming and shivering. When Uncle brought him to pray to the spirits, he felt stalked, a confusing tangle of emotions roiling in his belly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Uncle and Mother always wanted to know how he felt when he prayed. Azula said, “Bored.” Zuko didn’t want to say that he was angry and longing for something he didn’t even know, didn’t even understand, so he said, “Yeah. Bored,” instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mother looked troubled by this answer, but quickly hid the expression in order to ask Lu Ten the same. As his cousin talked, Zuko allowed himself to wonder what Azula really felt. If it was as complicated as his own experiences. He resolved to ask Mother about it, next time they went. Maybe she would know why the spirits never talked back to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He never got the chance— Uncle and Lu Ten went to battle soon after. Mother stopped taking them to pray after their cousin died, and it wasn’t very long after that that she was gone too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Katara was ten when she realized that the spirits were cruel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was in the communal igloo, Sokka wrapped around her, both of their cheeks wet with tears that never ended. Some of the tribe—what was left of it—was inside as well, but they were given space to grieve their brave, brave mother. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Katara had grown up with nightmares. Nightmares of darkness and pain, or distant unease that made everything suspect, or the freeze-burn feeling that she was missing something, </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, important to her. One dream had seen Katara counting her family members; Gran-Gran, Dad, Mom, and yes there was Sokka, and there was—there was—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A shadow. A gut feeling. An empty space where there shouldn’t have been one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mom had held her as she cried, rocking her back and forth. They all said she’d been crying that her love was gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the only comparable feeling that she had, the only other loss that Katara knew. This was so much more immediate, her whole being flushed and freezing, a terrible wail building in her throat. But if she cried, Mom wouldn’t be there to hold her and comfort her. She’d never be there again, not for anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Sokka whispered when Katara broke down into loud, gulping sobs. She told him between gasps for breath, and his eyes welled, but he tried to keep his tears in. She didn’t bother with that, knowing that there was no stopping this flood. She would have to be strong now, but not tonight. Not tonight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One day early in his exile, Zuko’s ship was at a port in the south of the Earth Kingdom. He looked out across the lands, feeling an odd tugging in his chest. He almost wanted to—go inland. There was something out there that he needed to run towards, to get back to. A strong urge gripped him—he took a step and then another towards the prow. He needed to find someone, or a place maybe. An image of a cave conjured in his mind unbidden.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait. What am I thinking?</span>
  </em>
  <span> There was no reason for him to go any further into the Earth Kingdom. There was no one there, and there was no place calling out to him. He was just being ridiculous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He scowled as he tried to forget about it, turning his back on the lush lands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Uncle watched him closely. He didn’t have to do more than take a sip of his tea to convey a question: </span>
  <em>
    <span>What’s on your mind, Prince Zuko?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He spoke without thinking, unaware of what he was saying or what it meant. “Uncle, have you ever heard of a spirit splitting in half?” They both blinked in surprise at the question, and Zuko scowled again, furious with himself. “Nevermind. Now, when the men get back—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Once,” Uncle said, instantly halting Zuko’s words. He looked off over Zuko’s shoulder as if in thought, and dropped into his storytelling voice, low and impactful. “There was an earth spirit, at the beginning of everything. We remember the names of Agni, Tui, and La, but hers has become lost over the many generations. Some just call her ‘Mother’. She loved the lands, the mountains and volcanoes and everything in between, but most of all, she loved the sky. Every day and every night, she would gaze at the clouds and the stars with adoration. There was a part of her which was wild and wished to be free in the way the sky was. But she was the earth spirit, and she could not leave her beloved ground even if she wanted to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When did she split her soul?” He asked impatiently, not wanting anyone to think he was enjoying the story. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was boring and unnecessary. He didn’t even really want to know about spirits—he never had. Especially after all that had happened, he had no desire to do learn more… except that the urge to go inland had quieted, turning itself to the story, begging him to listen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, ah, Prince Zuko. We aren’t there yet. Now, as I was saying. She didn’t want to leave the lands behind. The rolling hills, the forests, even the ice at the poles were her pride and joy. The other spirits were very impressed by the beauty they saw. But there were humans in these early times, and one day, there was an accident. A man had stoked a fire so he might feed his partner a delicious meal. Some say the partner was clumsy, while others say he was simply expressive. In any case, the partner fell into the fire and burned.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there a point to this?!” Zuko demanded, his skin crawling at the thought. He ignored the tiny voice in the back of his mind which said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>expressive, not clumsy. Never clumsy.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if he hadn’t been interrupted, Iroh went on. “The man was devastated. His grief was legendary, but that is a story for another time. What you must know for this tale is that the man buried his partner. It was his way of protecting him even in death, and it gave him a space to mourn him and feel close, because he was. There was only the ground between them. The earth spirit was used to humans dying, of course. But no dead had ever been buried before. Often, they were sent to float on the waves of La or were taken care of in some other way. She was shocked to sense him encased in her element, shocked and quite upset, and went to the grave to see for herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The man was there. No one ever encroached on his moments with his departed beloved, and so he ordered her away. She came and sat beside him anyway, and said nothing as the man pleaded for her to leave. He broke down eventually, his tears falling into the dirt beneath them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zuko was horrified to find his throat was tight. Other sailors around them had stopped to listen—what if they saw emotion on his face? What would they think? He could not be weak! Clenching his teeth as tightly as he could, he told himself very firmly to stop it. It was just some folk’s tale.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(There was another name on the tip of his tongue, begging to be said. He could imagine a field with a tree, a perfect resting spot for a perfect man. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My fault, my fault. I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’Who was he to you?’ she asked the man. The story of their love spilled from him haltingly. ‘We were soulmates,’ he told the earth spirit. ‘He was half of me, and all of me.’ They spoke for a long time, sitting over the grave. Eventually, however, the earth spirit was called away to where the land was soft and fertile and in need of shaping. She willed the ground to sprout trees, a jungle of them, and wondered if she had a half of herself. Of course, she thought of the sky. Part of her was always thinking of the freedom she saw there. And after many days of deliberating, after many days of sitting with the grieving man, she decided she had to try to reach the vast openness above her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did she jump?” Corporal Okada asked, honestly enthralled with the story the general was telling. Several other sailors laughed, but Zuko rolled his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course she didn’t,” he snapped. “She split her soul.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Uncle agreed, much more agreeably. “She believed that as long as part of her was on the ground, and the other part was touching it, she could have the best of both worlds.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And?” Several people asked at once. “Could she?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some of her days were wonderful indeed. She could ride the winds and create deserts and all was well. But there were other days, where the winds exhausted her and she longed to be on solid ground once again. The closest she could get was to ruffle the grass, but she could not sit, and the half of her that existed in the sky could no longer sense the earth, just as the part of her on the earth could not sense the sky. In the end, I do not believe she regretted her choice, but we can never know for sure. She disappeared some centuries ago now.” He shook his head sadly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The crew and the two princes were quiet for a few moments, thinking this over. Then, one of the men asked, “What was the story about the man’s grief?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Uncle could reply, Zuko turned sharply. “GET BACK TO WORK!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(He didn’t want to hear about grief. Even more than shame and dishonor, it haunted him at night. Storms still scared him like a child. Uncle would come to keep him company on the worst nights, and never asked why Zuko got so twitchy, murmuring “It’s not time yet, it’s not time yet…” without even realizing he was doing so.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One of the first things Aang said to Katara as they made their way back to the village was, “Whoa… do you feel that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” She asked, caught between annoyance at Sokka (could he stop complaining for </span>
  <em>
    <span>five seconds</span>
  </em>
  <span>?) and all the excitement of the day. “Feel what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…</span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Aang said, making a fist over his heart. Seeing her face—surely making some confused but encouraging expression—he shrugged. “It’s like a tug pulling me that-a-way.” He pointed in the opposite direction of the village, but Katara didn’t know anything past the ice fields. “But it’s weird… I feel it to you too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Katara couldn’t answer at that moment, Sokka interrupting them to complain that Appa wasn’t flying. Again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a moment, between when they got back and when Aang woke up, that she allowed herself to think of it again. Rubbing her chest over her heart, she closed her eyes and focused on it. Did she feel anything? There was some faint sensation there, she realized, and dug for it, grasping onto it with both hands. Bringing it to the light made her realize—though it was invisible, it spun her around and pointed toward the tent which held the young air bender. When he woke up, she could tell him she felt it too!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was just about to open her eyes when something else caught her attention. A shadow. A gut feeling. An empty space where there shouldn’t have been one. Frowning, she followed that line in a mind full of snow, and imagined herself at the edge of the ice, looking out onto the water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not too far,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought, totally nonsensically. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost here. They’re almost here.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What? She tried to imagine herself walking away from the edge, and she could see a path on the ground that lead to the tent. She took a few steps before turning back again. The sun dipped low on the horizon in this vision. She thought she could make out a shape in front of the bright ball of flame, far away but definitely there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Find me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Opening her eyes, she scowled and tried to shake the weird daydream away. But her heart was singing under her fist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Find me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Katara hated the color red. What was it good for, anyway? Red cheeks when you were embarrassed. Red fingers when you were too cold, before it got bad. Red blood spilled on the ice. Red armor killing innocent people. Red armor killing her mother. Red armor hurting her brother and her Gran-Gran.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Red scar slanting an eye that she couldn’t look away from.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She forgot about the paths in her mind, forgot to wonder who or what those weird thoughts had been about until they were in the air. Feeling the wind ruffle through her hair, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine them again. There was the invisible pull towards Aang, but the other one had slipped too far away. Furrowing her brow, she tried to find it again, only for that stupid fire bender’s stupid red scar to flash in her mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Disgusted with herself, she shook her head like it would make her forget, but of course, it didn’t work.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Blue. It was a color Zuko wasn’t supposed to like, and so he didn’t. He didn’t like green or brown or yellow either. Peasant colors, Azula said. But there was something about blue that called to him, that warmed his chest at the same time it twisted in his gut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Water Tribe peasants all wore blue, and purple and white too. But there was something about the girl who stood there with the old woman, who stood up to him, that caught his attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He still didn’t like blue. But even after she and her dunce brother attacked his ship, he found himself thinking about it, the specific shades and how they’d looked on the ice and on his ship. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gods, but did he make himself sick.)</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>a few quick notes:<br/>- I didn't come up w the name Betadi for Hakoda's dad. I can't remember where I read it now but I know it came from a different fanfic, so thank u to that author for the name, I hope it's okay I used it kjdshafkjh<br/>- Sokka won't stay this annoying lol he's just gotta get past the first few eps</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. II.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I skipped over a LOT of season 1 and parts of season 2 here, I hope that's okay, but I just wanted to skip right for the more interesting parts haha</p>
<p>continuing warning for grief/mourning, one on-screen (non-graphic) death, also non-graphic discussion of canon child abuse, and there's one line where Zuko says he doesn't see the point in going on</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Something’s not right,” Aang told them one night, under a canopy of trees and stars. He didn’t look at either of them, his eyes pointed not at the sky, but through the foliage, like he was seeing through it to something beyond their view.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With the camp?” Sokka asked. He was in an exceptionally good mood; he’d caught a few fish while hunting. “That’s okay, buddy, we still have a bit of starlight, we can move around if you want to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I mean with me. Something feels different. It’s like there’s this hole in my chest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Katara and Sokka glanced at each other, concern written over both of their features. “Not, like, a physical hole, right?” Sokka asked nervously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aang shook his head. “I think something’s missing,” he said finally. His voice was quiet, distracted, almost… otherworldly in a way. He didn’t look away from the tree-line. “But I don’t know what.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Katara didn’t know how to help him. It hurt to think that he was in pain and that there was nothing to do about it. She laid down in her bedroll, restless and positive it would take all night to fall asleep. But that wasn’t the case—as soon as she closed her eyes, she was dreaming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a woman there. Dressed in elegant purple, she danced in the light of the moon. She was Water Tribe, but Katara couldn’t tell North or South, the fashion unlike anything she knew. Though Katara had never seen her before—a twinge in the back of her mind said that she had, but Katara was sure she would’ve remembered this woman—she knew her face was usually tense, holding a fear that Katara didn’t understand in the lines of her mouth. In this vision, however, the woman was smiling, at peace. Her brown eyes glittered as sand crunched under their feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sand?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Katara wondered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where were they?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She looked around, and found more vaguely familiar landscapes, Earth Kingdom in nature. But why were they there?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” she said, pulling Katara out of her thoughts, to her feet and into the dancing circle. Holding hands, Katara looked down at herself and saw she was wearing yellow robes much like the air benders used to wear, warm but not as thick as furs were. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t have to think as they began moving together. Katara knew the steps instinctively, and never looked away from the woman’s beautiful eyes. The rest of the scene, if there ever had been one, faded away as Katara wrapped herself up in her partner. There was something so captivating about her, like this was right where they were meant to be, together and smiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a moment, eventually, where they tripped and went crashing to the ground. The woman was under her, dark hair splayed out in the sand, and laughed, lifting her hands to cup Katara’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My love,” Katara sighed blissfully. It wasn’t her voice, but it didn’t feel wrong to her dreaming self. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman began to say something—but then her eyes slid over Katara’s shoulder. The fear returned tenfold. Their bodies flipped as the woman threw herself over Katara, but it was too late. Her hands shaking, she reached for her side, and found an arrow sticking out, turning her yellow dress red. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” the woman gasped. Her arms cradled Katara close, tears suddenly streaming down her beautiful face. “No!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Katara woke, shaking, the woman’s voice echoing relentlessly through her head. “No, no, no….”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sokka jerked awake. He crawled towards her, wrapping her up in his arms, and though it reminded her all too sharply of the woman, she accepted the comfort, sobbing into his shoulder. He rocked them back and forth like he always did when they were kids. “What’s wrong? Sis, what’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My love,” was all she could manage to get out. Her chest felt like it was caving in. One of her hands pressed uselessly against her side, but there was no injury and no blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aang stared at them both, for once not rushing to comfort his friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ancient recognized ancient, you see. And it was then that Aang began to make sense of the sparks on Katara’s soul… and his own.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Zuko hated himself. One interaction with the Water Tribe girl, one glimpse even, and his heart went into overdrive. All of the weird, nonsensical thoughts he’d had his whole life bubbled up to the surface of his mind. The memory of her necklace, how he’d had to have it on him at all times, how it had comforted him to brush his thumb over the ridges on the pendant, it struck him again and again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hated to see her go. He hated the way she looked at him, disgusted and angry and rightfully so. Pathetically, he even hated the way she spoke to him. Not because he didn’t want her standing up to him—he knew very well that she wasn’t a weakling, wasn’t one to be pushed around—but because it wasn’t… gods, he could barely admit it even to himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stop being a coward,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he spat in the confines of his own mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That was the issue. Not that he deserved her kindness, or should even want it. But everything within him rebelled when they said cruel words to each other. He had no idea why he felt like that, why he knew with such conviction that it wasn’t right, but he did. It wasn’t supposed to be that way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But supposed-to’s, he knew, rarely withstood reality. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the reality was that they were enemies. As long as she stood between him and his destiny—capturing the Avatar, finally being able to go home and get his honor back—that would never change.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fighting him at the Spirit Oasis and later on the ice was something Katara would not soon forget. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was electric, moving in tandem as they shot water and fire at each other. She had never felt so powerful, not even when she fought Pakku, and she reveled in it, used it to her advantage. Zuko was a fool to fight her on her own element, surrounded by it. Some part of her grudgingly could admit that he was talented, that fighting him left her blood singing. Mostly she was just angry and terrified for Aang, for the Northern Water Tribe, for Yue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a small voice in her gut that told her they shouldn’t be fighting each other. That neither should raise a hand or an element against the other like this. But she ignored it—this was no time to be questioning whether he was an enemy or not, or whether it was right to protect Aang from him. Obviously it was right; she couldn’t let him destroy the hope of the world. It was that thought that pounded through her head as she attacked, and that thought only.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Later, when it was all over, Aang laid in Appa’s saddle and looked at her with new eyes. She tried to be brave and meet his gaze, but there was some part of her, some hidden sliver, that shied away from him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Danger,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it whispered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s dangerous. It’s not time yet.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t know what it was supposed to mean, but it curled anxiously in her stomach. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not time yet</span>
  </em>
  <span> was both a comfort and a source of unease. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not time yet for what,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she wondered, then shook her head and stuffed it down as far as she could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More important things filled her thoughts, then. Aang told them about the Spirit World, but she could tell he was holding something back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kindly, she reached out a hand to him. He took it, and instead of danger, she felt calm. Unconsciously, she knew that she was safe with him, and him with her. “What is it? You can tell us anything, Aang.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” he said, but his smile was strained. He couldn’t quite meet her eye. “I… I found out something about the night I ran away. I could tell the other Avatars weren’t telling me everything, but… maybe that was for the best.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You deserve to know what’s going on with you, Aang.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Katara. It’s just, I found out… that night. My spirit—the Avatar’s spirit—split in half.” He pulled his hand away, curling into himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Katara and Sokka both asked, shocked. Sokka was on the reins but turned his head to face them, uncaring or unaware that his red eyes and wet cheeks were obvious to them both. (Neither of them were going to judge him, but he had always tried to deal with grief on his own. They would be there for him when he was ready to share it.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—I thought that was just an old spirit’s tale,” Sokka said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think it was supposed to happen,” Aang said, looking down at his hands. “But I guess my soul was scared, or sensed I was close to death, or something. It wasn’t explained that much. But it means that… I have to find the other half before we could end the war.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sokka asked, “How are we supposed to find it? It’s in the Spirit World right? You can’t just take a trip there—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Apparently, the other half was reborn,” Aang interrupted. “They’re somewhere out there. I can feel them, I have ever since I woke up. I just didn’t realize….”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something about that resonated with her. She remembered the vision she’d had, of standing on the edge of the ice and feeling a call towards the horizon. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not time yet.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Where do we look?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Earth Kingdom,” Aang said resolutely. He had that look in his eyes again, like he was seeing through the space around them, pointed in a direction Katara suddenly understood—towards the other half of his soul.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed, and looked behind them. For some reason, she thought of Zuko.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stop it,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she told herself, furious. And then, nonsensically, </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not time yet.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can still bend, though, right?” Sokka asked, glancing across the campsite to where Katara was sleeping. Though he was talking to Aang, he couldn’t help but watch, worried she’d have some nightmare again. “Do you think they can bend like you can?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aang shrugged. He knew he could water bend, and had done small things with the earth and fire, but that was it. Spirits, but he hoped things would start to make sense soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want them to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aang tried to imagine that, not being the only person in the world who could wield all the elements. He always felt this inescapable loneliness in the back of his mind, the knowledge that he was the only one left—the only air bender, the only Avatar—weighing heavily on him. It was an easy answer—“Yeah.” But something Roku had told him made him think maybe his soulmate, whoever they were, wouldn’t be able to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They are their own person, their own body. Together, you are stronger, but your abilities are not lessened or taken away in their absence. Neither shall theirs.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that in mind, he added, “I won’t mind if they can’t. It would be a lot of fun, but I’ll be happy just to have them. The bending doesn’t matter so much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sokka accepted this with a hum and a nod, his eyes flicking up from the ground to his sister, then to the sky. He wasn’t sure it was his place to ask, but he had to protect her any way he could. Hopefully she wouldn’t be mad. Inhaling deeply, he asked, “Did the spirits say anything about my sister?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aang peered at Katara. She was his best friend, and he wanted to protect her too. If he told Sokka what he knew, would that help? Would that make things harder for her?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Really, he knew the answer. None of that mattered, because she would want to know, no matter the risk or the hurt or the confusion it might bring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not exactly,” he hedged. “They said I had powerful allies at my side and more are coming. My destiny is all tangled up with two powerful souls. It seems like there’s a lot going on behind the scenes we don’t know about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And my sister is one of those souls? They said that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, they didn’t say who. But I think she’s one of them because—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because why?” Sokka demanded, upset, searching his face like the spirits might come out right then and explain what was going on with Katara.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because her soul is ancient, Sokka. Maybe even as old as mine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does that mean? What should we do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aang helplessly shook his head. As much as he wished he did, he had no idea what it all meant. The other Avatars had given him more questions than answers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Together, they watched Katara smile in her sleep. “Love,” she whispered, and Aang was suddenly reminded of sunshine on a hill, unknown voices speaking unknown words somewhere just out of sight. But he was certain of one thing: Katara was there with him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sun beat down harshly as Zuko and Iroh drifted. Even lit by the source of his element, he was exhausted, physically and mentally sick over all that had occurred. There was no relief from the losses they had incurred, bodies floating around their piece of driftwood, salt water stinging in his open wounds. They had nothing now—no ship, no crew, no Avatar. Tui, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the great spirit Tui</span>
  </em>
  <span>, had died. A girl had died to take his place. Zhao was dead, too, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel grief or joy either way for the man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Death overwhelmed him even more than thirst or hunger or delusions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Uncle told him, later, that he was muttering about his old imaginary friend again. His love.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you think of them now?” Iroh asked curiously. He’d been wondering about this soul Zuko spoke about ever since he first mentioned them. He had an idea about what it could mean, but if it was what he thought, then he knew it was not his place to interfere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t Zuko who said the words, who said, “My love always dies. I can think of nothing but mourning,” but it was his mouth and his voice. His tears that welled up in his eyes as the sun stayed overhead, terrible in its unending shine.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kya stood there in the Swamp. Her back was turned to Katara, but she would have known her mom anywhere—the wavy brown hair, the furs she wore, even the way she stood with her shoulders back and her feet slightly apart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mom!” She cried, running for her, uncaring about the gross swamp water that splashed all over. “Mom!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For years, all she’d wanted was to see her mom again. To be held by her, to ask her questions, to hear her voice and feel the warmth of her smile. Katara threw out a hand to reach for her shoulder, but abruptly, the vision faded, her hand falling through air thick with humidity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shock of it took a second to settle in before it exploded inside of her. Falling to her knees, she sobbed and sobbed. She lost track of time, but it didn’t matter anyway. Everything was going wrong, they would be stuck there forever, she was lost and her friends were lost too, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it wasn’t time yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>—and yet it was, because surely they would never leave this horrible, horrible place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get up, my love,” a voice whispered. She whipped her head around, hoping for her mother though she could tell instinctively it wasn’t. There was no one around, not that she could see anyway. Annoyed to have been interrupted in her grief, she scoffed and wiped her cheeks. Stumbling to her feet, she scanned the spot her mother had stood one last time, but no. It was empty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An invisible touch lingered, suddenly, on her shoulder. Jerking the sensation away and spinning in a circle, she still saw no one. “Come on!” She screamed, furious. “Show yourself!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only response she got was an unnatural stillness. There would be no more visions today.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everything happened so fast that Zuko could barely remember the torture of the ocean anymore. Now, when he closed his eyes, he saw his sister. He saw lightning. He saw his father’s face, that last time they had seen each other—the grim malice in his eyes as he burnt his only son.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Uncle tried to be cheerful, finding good in every miserable day that passed them by. Tea leaves here, a rainbow there, beautiful flowers and weird animals, nature as a whole fascinated him. He pointed new things out with infuriating regularity, and it took everything in Zuko not to blow up and shout at him that he just didn’t care about any of it. How could he? How could he care about anything when this was their life now. They were fugitives. They were both banished. They would never go home, he would never catch the Avatar, they’d be stuck in the Earth Kingdom until they were caught or killed. He couldn’t imagine a future where he lived. There didn’t seem to be a point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even without saying any of this out loud, Uncle seemed to be able to tell what he was thinking. He didn’t stop trying to cheer him up, of course. But he let nights be quiet, sipping his tea and gazing at the stars and leaving Zuko be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those were his only peaceful moments, but even then, the peace was fragile and tiny and easily overtaken by his other thoughts. Sister. Lightning. Father. Fire. He wasn’t sure if thoughts of Katara, infrequent though he allowed them to be, were a relief or not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it was better Uncle never shut up. At least then he didn’t have to hear himself think.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Watching Toph and Aang interact was strangely painful for Katara.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They understood each other better than anyone she had ever seen before. Whole conversations of cut-short sentences and half thoughts were shared, and were apparently completely understandable to them both. At least Sokka was confused too. But he didn’t seem to mind the way Aang and their new friend connected on a level incomprehensible to them both. He threw himself into traveling and training and other things, and didn’t have time to watch them jump feet-first into a friendship. But Katara, who Toph didn’t quite get along with yet, did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soulmates were something of a fairy tale back home. No one really believed in them, or at least didn’t believe that anyone they knew would find theirs. Love didn’t have to be destined to be enough, and it could be found anywhere, in anyone. Watching them, though, she could easily see what made the difference between a regular relationship and that of soulmates.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They moved in sync. They got each other’s jokes. When they argued, it wasn’t miscommunication bogging them down, it was their similar personalities finding clashes where they usually found agreement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She felt, constantly, like she was missing out. She wasn’t jealous of Toph, being Aang’s soulmate. Rather, she was jealous that they had theirs, even though she knew how difficult it was for Aang—for them both, probably—to be without. She was glad they had each other, really, and not just because now Aang could start to learn to earth bend. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she dreamed, she saw the hills and sprawling city of Omashu. Something felt not-quite-right about it, but she ignored that for now, having some sort of destination in mind. Unsure exactly what it was, she followed her feet to a peak not too far away. Blue robes swished around her feet. She could tell, instinctively, that she was a man, but this didn’t seem odd to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were several peaks nearby, but her eyes went straight to one specific one, where a woman in red was waving her hand. Katara beamed—her love was here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If there was more after that, she didn’t remember it. When she got up for the day, her chest felt a little lighter, and she went to make breakfast with a smile. Once it was done, she went to poke at Toph, the last of them to get up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go away, Shu,” Toph mumbled, still mostly asleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Katara’s heart started to pound immediately. “What did you call me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Toph just snored. When she woke up later, pushing Sokka’s hands away from where he’d shook her, she didn’t remember their moment. But Katara couldn’t forget.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. III.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>One night, Uncle asked, “When you speak to the spirits, what do you hear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sat across their small table in their home in Ba Sing Se, his eyes clear and his words sincere. Zuko could sense some underlying meaning, but that was nothing new with his uncle. He kept his hands in his lap, watching a bead of condensation drip down the side of the tea kettle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you want to know?” He couldn’t help his natural suspicion, however slight it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merely curious, nephew. I find myself seeking guidance from the spirits often, these days. I wondered if you did too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zuko never reached out to the spirits. What was the point? They wouldn’t do anything for him, not even to make his life worse. Still, it was Uncle asking. There couldn’t be any harm, he thought, in telling the truth. “They don’t respond. They never have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never?” Uncle asked, sounding genuinely surprised.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged. If they ever had, he didn’t remember it. But then, it wasn’t very often he reached out anyway, not in any hurry to be ignored again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some time passed where neither of them spoke. The sounds of the city around them were quieting, the lights inside the neighbors’ homes dimming. Then, finally, Uncle set down his tea cup. “You know, nephew, I don’t believe anyone has ever told you about your birth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Scowling at the reminder of his mother, he asked, “What about it?” He already knew—his birth had been easy, but everything that came after was not. Father had wanted to pitch him over the walls of the palace. Lu Ten tripped and nearly upended his bassinet, and then avoided him for weeks, too scared to even look at him. Some would-be assassin had tried to kill Ursa and him both when he was six weeks old. It wasn’t a happy story by any means.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, something your mother and I spoke about when you were not even a few days old.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to hear this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She could sense something was different about you, and I could too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To hear that Mother, too, saw his weaknesses even when he was just a baby crushed him. Angrily, he barked, “I already know—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if Zuko hadn’t spoken, Iroh kept speaking. “We realized that you had not been blessed by the spirits, Zuko. They bless every child. They blessed your sister, even. But not you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you telling me this?” He demanded. His fists were shaking under the table. “What’s wrong with you?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Uncle looked at him with sad eyes, like he knew how bad this hurt, but it didn’t stop him from answering. “I am telling you because it’s important for you to know. You cannot turn to the spirits for protection. You will have to make your own path in life, nephew. If they do not answer you, it can only mean one of two things—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think I don’t know that!” He shouted, jumping to his feet. Uncle did the same, but he hardly noticed, too preoccupied with the hilarious idea that he didn’t know how badly he was suffering for their indifference. “You think I don’t know that? You think I didn’t beg for guidance after the Agni Kai? You think I don’t have questions about what the hell is going on with me? I did! I do! Don’t talk to me like I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking know</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m cursed. Don’t—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Uncle hugged him then. Zuko resisted, tried to get away, but he wouldn’t let go, his strong arms holding tight around his waist and shoulders. Exhausted, he gave in, tucking his head down like a child and allowing himself to weep.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“There’s something weird about you,” Toph said one day as they roamed the Upper Tier, looking for something to do, senses peeled for any sign of Appa.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, thanks,” Katara replied dryly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not like that. I mean, everyone usually has this kind of buzz around them. I don’t really know what it’s supposed to be. But you don’t have one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should I be worried?” She asked, half-serious, and was unsurprised when Toph only shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How should I know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Katara didn’t push it, hoping maybe, if she asked Aang, he would know more. But while they were alone, there was something else she wanted to ask about…. “Toph,” she started carefully, unsure how the younger girl would take this, “Do you ever feel a pull between us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, Sugar Queen, I like you but not like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no!” She shuddered at the thought—Toph was very much so not on her radar as a potential love interest—and shook her head. “What I meant was that Aang once told me he could feel this pull towards you, and he felt it for me too. And recently, you said something when I tried to wake you up that made me think… well, it made me think maybe you feel it too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Toph frowned thoughtfully. “What did I say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Katara’s stomach twisted nervously, but she tried to hide it, keep her hands where they were and not in her hair. It didn’t matter that Toph could probably tell anyway. “Oh, well… you called me Shu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shu?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Toph thought for a few minutes, and they walked silently. Katara’s head was such a jumbled mess, she couldn’t pick out any specific thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Toph spoke, her words were tinged with confusion. “Like Oma and Shu?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oma.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It wasn’t the first time she’d heard the name, not by far, but it pounded in her head, felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>rightrightright</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Her fingers unconsciously found their way to her braid. “Yeah, I think so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Toph didn’t seem too bothered—at least, not by that. She reached out to pat Katara’s back, perfunctory but almost gentle (for her, anyway). “Huh, weird. I was probably just dreaming, don’t worry about it too much. As for that pull, I guess so. I got this gut feeling that going with you guys was the right thing to do, but I think that probably had more to do with Twinkle Toes than with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why? Do you feel one towards me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Katara remembered the path in the snow in her mind. She remembered the edge of the ice, the horizon. When she closed her eyes and searched for the same pulls towards Aang and towards the stranger in her mind, she felt another one growing underneath her feet. The cobblestones connected where she stood to another spot right beside her, where Toph was. It felt the same as the path to Aang, which shot off in another direction, back towards the palace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The third path surprised her, but maybe it shouldn’t have. It was a tug in her chest that aimed right down the Tiers, so far she couldn’t see where it ended. But she could sense it was close, within the city most likely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Did she want to know what lay that way? Curiosity bubbled inside of her, and she unconsciously took a few steps towards it. But some whisper in the back of her mind stopped her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t know where it lead, or to whom. There wasn’t time for the unknown right now, not with the war’s end coming closer and closer with each passing day, not with Appa missing, not to mention finding a fire bending master for Aang. And anyway, some unknown part of her thought easily, it wasn’t time yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She opened her eyes. Toph was impatiently tapping her foot. “You done?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she said, and turned away from the path down the Tiers. There would come a day that she followed it to whatever she was supposed to find, but that wouldn’t be today. “And yes, I do feel a pull towards you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Toph didn’t react except to turn around and start heading back to their temporary home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We were meant to meet, I think,” Katara said, following beside her. “You were meant to be in our lives.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Toph ignored her, but when Katara peeked over, she saw a hint of a blush and the tiniest, pleased little grin, and smiled.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>In the Crystal Caverns of Ba Sing Se, Zuko felt peace, if only for a moment. With Katara’s fingers brushing his scar, the first person to ever touch it besides himself, something in his soul clicked into place. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is right, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is where I’m meant to be.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shrouded in green light, she was beautiful. Angry, sad, surprised—there wasn’t an expression she could make that he wouldn’t be endeared to in some way. There was some generally unreachable part of him that had taken over, that wanted to tilt his face into her cold palm, wanted to stay there forever with her. Under the caves, able to live as freely as possible and to love whoever they wanted. He could forget about the war, his family, the Avatar, all of it. It would be just them against the world, like it was supposed to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She felt it too. He could tell by the way her breath hitched in her throat, how she unconsciously leaned into him, how her fingers spread out and caressed under his eye. It sent shocks through him, right to his heart and down to his own fingers and back. No one had ever looked upon the scar like she had in that moment—like it wasn’t ugly, like it wasn’t shameful. Like it wasn’t a symbol of how dishonorable he was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That old rage, the sick feeling when she glared at him, was washed away all at once. Her gentle gaze was cleansing, freeing him—momentarily—of the burden of the scar. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but—the Avatar came then, and Uncle too. They were an unwelcome intrusion into a place that didn’t belong to them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking his head, he told himself the truth. It didn’t belong to Zuko either, nor Katara, and certainly not both of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His fists clenched as he watched Katara greet the Avatar, and turned his attention to Uncle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minutes later, as he faced two destinies, he ignored the not-so-small parts of him that clamored for him to return to Katara’s side. He knew his role in this game—he was the destroyer. Nothing in his path was safe, not even her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(All he wanted was to go home. And no matter how much the caves may have felt that way, he knew better. That was a fantasy, a could-be, a what-if. Maybe it was supposed to be home, but he knew that </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed-to’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> had no baring on what </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span>.The palace was home, with the turtleduck pond and the beautiful sunrises and the memories of his mother. It was real, and he was going to cling to it with both hands until Azula or Father took it away again.)</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Dad sat close, Katara on one side and Sokka on the other, listening as Sokka regaled him and Bato of the adventures they’d had. Tumultuous feelings lingering in her chest aside, she was terribly glad to see him, and even just thinking about the years apart left her eyes welling. He wasn’t looking at her, but somehow he could tell anyway, and laid an arm over her shoulders, pulling her further into his side. She let him, wanting the comfort he offered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The warmth of his body heat only served to remind her of the caves. They’d been oddly cold, a tinge of coolness in the air that rose the hairs on her arms. In a tent under the moon, her mind far away and the sea breeze slipping in, she shivered slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning her face into her dad’s chest, she closed her eyes. All she saw was that horrible night—Azula’s lightning, Aang falling. Zuko’s face, before the fight, his features lit by the green crystals. She’d thought—well. She’d thought a lot in those moments.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was beautiful when he wasn’t glaring or scowling—even his shock and grief were stunning. His eyes had had a depth to them she wanted to lose herself in. The scarred skin had left an imprint on her fingertips, still lingering days later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In that moment, she’d wanted to give the world to him. She’d wanted him to return the favor. To her shame, she’d wanted to forget the war, forget everything. But that was wrong, and she knew it then as she knew it now. There was no forgetting what she—what they all—had gone through, especially not when the end was in sight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hope had shifted then, from staying there with him and leaving the world behind, to saving it with him at her side. He could have joined them on Appa, could have traveled here and helped them fight. Instead, he had chosen Azula. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As far as she was concerned, he had chosen </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As wrong as it got.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d had a moment, there in the caves. She knew it wouldn’t take just one night for someone like Zuko to completely change, to become a force of positivity and hope for the world, but… she’d hoped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew about her mom now. He’d stood there and let her touch his scar and offer to heal it (and how embarrassed she felt now, even as offense and indignation took hold inside her. She was going to use the spirit water on him when he was so undeserving of it. No, not undeserving—just a bad person. Just an idiot who made the wrong choice. Just the boy who’d gazed at her with such intense eyes, she’d thought…)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed, the breath catching painfully in her throat. It wasn’t just anger or regret or embarrassment leaving her feeling ill and emotional, but she didn’t want to give him her sadness. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not his, but still, no part of her wanted to feel it. He didn’t deserve her compassion if he was just going to throw it back in her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The others around her quieted. Dad shifted slightly, holding her a little tighter. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t want to tell him, or anyone for that matter, how close she had come to asking Zuko to join them. How disappointed she was, not just with him, but herself too. Positive no one would understand, she brushed it off. “I guess I’m just tired. I’m okay, Dad. Don’t worry about me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It would have worked for any of her friends, but not him. The lines of Hakoda’s face deepened slightly as he looked down at her. There were dark circles under her eyes, but he could tell it wasn’t what was really bothering her. Glancing at his son, he saw him shake his head—</span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t push her,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he seemed to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hakoda wondered when he’d forgotten how to take care of his daughter, but didn’t have to think for long. Two years was a long time to be away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m your dad, I’ll always worry about you,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead like he had when she was a child. She still was, really, but he knew he couldn’t treat her like one anymore, not when she’d had to grow up too fast. Opening up his other arm, he gestured for Sokka to come to him, which he quickly did. Having both of his children in his arms felt like a blessing, something he had feared he would never feel again. He kissed Sokka’s temple, and tried to just exist in that moment, to remember everything he could about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bato gave them a few moments of peace, all of them pretending that no one was sniffling. But eventually, his voice cut through the air, kind but firm. “Hakoda, I think it’s time you told her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Katara pulled away at that, folding her arms around her stomach, hugging herself. Her eyes were red with tears and her throat felt tight with emotion, but she couldn’t handle more cuddling in that moment. “Told me what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Sokka said, turning his head so half of his face was smushed into Hakoda’s shoulder. “Told her what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hakoda sighed lowly, wishing this moment would never have to come. He opened his arm for her to come back, but she didn’t, her eyes—Kya’s eyes—peering back at him almost distrustfully. Without a word, his arm dropped down to his lap, still giving her the space to return if she wanted to. He wouldn’t push her. He wasn’t sure he had the right to anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s something you both should know,” he said. Gods, but this was difficult. How did you tell your child she was as good as cursed? </span>
  <span>“I thought… I thought, when we left, that as long as you both stayed there where it was safe, and you were together, you would be alright. But if you’re going to be out here fighting the war, it’s important you know this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Indignation rose in her—there were no if’s about her fighting the war. She and Sokka, and Aang and Toph and even Suki too, had all been fighting for </span>
  <em>
    <span>months</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking a fortifying breath, Hakoda met her eyes head-on. “Katara, when you were born, the elders came to pass on blessings from the spirits. But when they tried, there was something blocking them. They realized that there were no blessings forthcoming. With you, Sokka, it was very different. There were many spirits who wished to bless you when you were born. We never understood why it was so different for you both, but we never thought we would need to know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I stayed home, you mean,” Katara said. Her mind was already spinning away from the tent, back to a moment years ago that was seared into her mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kya, glaring at the Fire Nation soldier. Kya, trying to get Katara to leave, her voice strong and hiding the fear that Katara knew must have been hiding just beneath the surface. Katara, running through the snow as fast as she could, begging the spirits for all of it to be some horrible nightmare, for her mother to be okay. The black snow had just kept falling; there was no wind, no wolf howl, no other sign that the spirits had heard her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For so long, she had struggled between two thoughts—that the spirits were too busy that day, answering the calls of other tribe members; and that they were cruel, deciding her mother was not worth their efforts. Gran-Gran had always said to respect the spirits, to hope for the best </span>
  <span>in life</span>
  <span> but be prepared for the worst. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was that their best?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She’d wondered, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or their worst?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It turned out it was neither, in a way. They hadn’t decided Kya was unworthy of being saved, or anything like that. They’d just been ignoring her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They always had been.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s—that’s screwed up,” Sokka declared. “I mean, I don’t even really need all of mine! Isn’t there some way we could give my extra blessings to her? I bet Aang would know how.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Katara stood. She felt hollowed out, and the eyes of her father and brother and pseudo-uncle were too much in that moment. Could they see through her? Could they tell she just wanted to hide away from the whole world for a minute and scream and cry? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Why her? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why her?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let herself linger on it for any longer than it took to wonder. That way only lead to pain she couldn’t bare to heap onto her already overwhelming pile.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hakoda said, “Katara—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned away and left through the tent flap. Toph and Aang sat nearby, and they both jumped as she came marching out. Immediately, Toph asked, “What’s wrong? Where are you going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” she snapped, and immediately felt bad. But she just had to get away, and she hoped the younger girl would understand, would accept the apology she’d give later, when she didn’t feel like she was going to be sick. “Nowhere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want company?” Aang asked hesitantly. “We don’t have to talk, we could just sit with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook her head sharply and headed right for the beach, collapsing on the wet sand. The moon, Yue, was high in the sky, but it didn’t make her feel any better, nor did the waves that lapped at her knees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her head ached as she cried, her tears dripping into salty water below.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>It took no time at all for Zuko to realize that the palace was not where he was meant to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If it weren’t Uncle in prison, or Father treating him no differently than he had before, or Azula’s constant manipulations, then it was the way his chest ached at night. It wasn’t a normal ache—he was familiar with bruises and bumps, cuts and burns. This wasn’t physical, it was beyond that, it was spiritual. Like a rope that connected his center to another’s, one that was far away. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it when he closed his eyes, could sense it stretching out and trying to pull him to where he was needed, where he was wanted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every day he spent around his family, he felt himself growing more and more paranoid, tension tightening in his shoulder blades. Where before he’d seen something of his own creation (the potential for love, for affection, for simple compassion from his family), he now saw the truth instead. He saw yet more pain, neverending fear, constant shame.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His father would never love or accept him, and every word felt backhanded and snide, like he was sick of having Zuko back already. Azula might actually care about him to some degree, but it was buried under layers of courtly intrigue and tongue-in-cheek glee to see him upset. Mai and Ty Lee were harder to decipher, but even if they were like him, trying to tiptoe between his sister’s moods, they were above him too—Azula didn’t lure them into traps or laugh when they made fools of themselves (because they simply never did). She trusted them. She didn’t trust him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had to get out of there, and he knew just where to go—the Avatar needed a fire bending teacher still. He could grab Uncle and they could go, and he could make things right with everyone that mattered—Uncle and Katara and even Aang too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Going through the steps of his plan, he tried not to think of anything but escape. He couldn’t afford distractions. And for the most part, he succeeded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things started to go wrong when he saw his father. They went back and forth, Zuko trying to sound stronger than he really felt inside and hopefully not doing too bad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, Ozai said, “I always knew you were weak. How pathetic you were, barely able to conjure a flame, more concerned with your little daydreams than your training. I should have killed you in your cradle and saved myself the shame.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course it hurt to hear that from the man who was supposed to love him. But in a way, it felt cleansing—finally, he was being honest. Finally, Zuko didn’t have to look for hidden meanings in his words. He knew exactly where Ozai stood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t rise to the bait. His father wasn’t to be deterred, though, and smirked cruelly at him. He was as determined to win this as Zuko was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zuko should have expected it, the final blow. He should have known closure he thought long dealt with wasn’t what it seemed. He should have prepared himself for anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you want to know what happened to your mother?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wanted to say thank you so much for the comments!! I'm sorry I haven't replied, I... am chugging can't talk juice, but I appreciate them so much &lt;333</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. IV.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING for past life death, lots of grief (related to Kya and Ursa), and Zuko briefly (for one paragraph) expresses a passively suicidal thought</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There was an odd feeling in Katara’s chest as Zuko stood in front of her ragtag little family. There was betrayal there, and disgust, rage and rejection all tied up into knots. But they weren’t alone, each one met by some senseless hope, relief, longing. She wanted to hug him and beg him to stay with her. She wanted to slap him and never see him again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first impulse was shoved down unceremoniously. It came from some deep well inside of her that she couldn’t quite reach, the true source of it hidden away from her no matter how hard she tried to grab it. Furious with herself, she focused on the hurt and glared at Zuko freely. He met her eye, but like last time, there was no cruel gleam there, no manic drive. He just looked tired.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t end up slapping him, but she didn’t hug him either. In turns, she avoided him at all costs and found ways to threaten him. It was only a matter of time, she thought, before he did like usual and destroyed something. She was prepared to destroy him right back if he even thought about breaking her family apart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, then he went and had a life-changing road trip with Aang where he managed what had begun to seem impossible—help Aang fire bend. And then he had one with her brother, bringing back not only Suki but Hakoda as well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone loved him, but couldn’t they see? Couldn’t they see that he was going to betray them like he had her? Weren’t they waiting for him to hurt them like she was?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Obviously, the answer was no. It infuriated her even worse than how he kept trying to help her with the chores, boiling water for tea and meals, collecting laundry, even helping Sokka fish and hunt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I won’t be fooled by you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought as she watched him sit with Toph and smile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I won’t.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That night, the night before the bombs came, she had another dream. She blinked, and suddenly she was in the saddle of an air bison. It wasn’t Appa, but she wasn’t sure how she knew that, just that it was true. A shadow of familiarity overlaid her memories—this bison smelled different, had different coloring, yet she knew them all the same. (There was a name on the tip of her tongue. She knew the bison’s name, but what was it? Why couldn’t she remember?)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Above her, there were dark clouds that covered the entire sky. The only relief were parts where the gray was lighter, not the terrifying black that surrounded them. She felt ill, her stomach churning as the bison rushed to escape the storm that would surely come any second.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold on!” A voice shouted, close but difficult to make out in the harsh winds. “We’re almost there!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tried to turn her head, to sit up and see who it was that was with her. On some level, she knew—her love was there. He was taking them to land. The Southern Water Tribe was near, and hopefully they would be allowed to stay, to wait out the rains. But for some reason, she couldn’t get up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tipping her chin down, she saw a child on her chest, clinging to the red robes she wore. She didn’t know how she knew this either, but she did—this was her son. Sitting up seemed less important, then. Wrapping her arms tightly around him, she soothed him with words she couldn’t hear. His whimpers were loud in her ear, and she wondered why she hadn’t heard them when she first woke into this dream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes stayed trained on the clouds, even as they opened up and released their torrents. Rain stung her face, but she made no move to stop it, couldn’t even if she tried. Turning her body so she covered his, she sheltered him from the rain. All she could smell was his hair, baby-soft and sweet, and the bison, the leather of the saddle and the heat of the rain. Though it hurt, she looked up to where her love sat with the reins. His hair was plastered to his skin, and he didn’t look back at her, his hands holding so tight his knuckles were pale as the moon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tucking her head down, she prayed the clouds would let them pass, that they would all three of them make it through to the Tribe. She could feel them in the sky like they were alive, but that was just another thing that didn’t make sense until it suddenly did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lightning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pushed her child away from her, up towards where her love was. She sat up, her fingers moving into position to bend it away, and took a deep breath—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it was too late. The lightning struck. Terrible, brilliant whiteness split the sky with a crack so loud it deafened her in her last moments.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was unaware of anything for a time. It wasn’t peace, exactly, but emptiness. Silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then there was a loud, crashing boom that shook the ground beneath her and rattled the breath in her lungs. Katara woke and the nightmare didn’t end.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>He saw the cracks in the ceiling like it was slow-motion. They were going to come down, and they were probably going to hit someone considering how close everyone was standing, and—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes tracked downwards. Katara.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every nerve in his being lit up. He moved without thinking, moved as quick as he could, pushing Suki out of the way and flying through the air. “No!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their bodies collided painfully. He hit the stone first, his back taking the brunt of not only his weight but hers as well. They rolled just as the ceiling collapsed where she had stood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart thudded in his chest, his vision briefly tunneling. She could’ve—she would’ve—she almost—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not time yet!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” She demanded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Saving your life.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But that was too real, too soon, and anyway, he could tell it wasn’t the right thing to say. “Keeping rocks from crushing you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, I’m not crushed, you can get off me now!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pushed her way out from under his arm and stomped away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did she not realize how close of a call that was?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thought furiously. “I’ll take that as a thank-you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moment lingered in his mind as the others escaped, as he fought Azula all over again. He cared about Katara’s group of people, of course he did, but knowing that she was in danger only pushed him farther, made him work harder. In a way, it felt good to fight her, to stand up for himself and his new-found friends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he fell through the air, he had a moment of… relief, almost. It was a terrible time to die, and there was so much he hadn’t done yet, so much he still needed to fix and make better. Relationships he needed to mend. His love to find. But, twistedly, he felt better knowing he would die doing what he could to protect Katara and the others. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, he saw them, flying in like they were racing time itself. And there on the saddle was Katara—her hand outstretched, her hair blowing in the wind, a look of grim determination flattening her mouth into a line. She reached for his hand and grabbed him out of his free-fall, pulling him down into safety with her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His whole body ached, especially the shoulder of the arm she’d grabbed. But he was alive, and she was there and she was alive too. It was all he could ask for, really… well, almost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sat up, Katara right behind him, and turned his eyes back to his sister. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no one there to save her. He watched her fall, numbness smothering any complicated feelings he had. Still, he couldn’t help but say aloud, “She’s not gonna make it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except Azula was too resourceful, too cunning and too stubborn to die such an ignoble death. He should have realized it wouldn’t be enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they flew away, he glanced at Katara, wanting—needing—to make sure she was alright. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was weirdly nice, he thought, to see her glare pointed someone else’s way for once.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“Or better yet, you can bring my mother back!” She yelled at him later that night. They collided roughly as she stormed away, but he paid it no mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t do that for her—if he had ever had the power to bring back lost mothers, he would’ve used it for himself by now—but he could do the next best thing. Time to find Sokka.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Yon Rha was pathetic. He looked so much smaller, laying in the mud, without the red armor he wore that awful day. His voice shook with fear as Katara and Zuko glared down at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She lied to you,” Katara said. “She was protecting the last water bender.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” He croaked. “Who?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ME!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rain stopped, droplets held suspended in midair. An umbrella of water encased them above their heads. An electric feeling of power surged through her, all encompassing and unlike anything she’d known before. She could control all of the pain she’d ever felt in that moment, as easily as she breathed, as easily as she bended. The fate of Yon Rha was held in her hands, and hers alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wanted to destroy him. If there was anyone on this earth who deserved it, it was him. And she could do it. It wouldn’t even be hard to turn the ice to shards and to impale him, severing the source of her nightmares, of the worst day of her life, from this world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without conscious thought, her hands moved, the shards formed. They took their aim at him, slicing through the air gracefully and deadly, but stopped just short.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stared at him as he whimpered. Memories of so many nights spent crying herself to sleep hit her. All the times Sokka climbed into bed beside her, his eyes red and his nose stuffed, and mourned with her. The sound of the little boy from her dream’s cries echoed in her ears. Thousands of cries from all over the world, from people who’d lost someone they loved, who grieved those they had once known. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ice melted and splashed all around him. She couldn’t do it. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>do it. Pins and needles pricked in her hands, but as she stood there, wet and cold and hollowed out, she realized she just couldn’t take his life. She couldn’t be the one who caused that pain, didn’t think she’d be able to bear herself if she went through with it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He deserved to feel the kind of hurt he had inflicted on her and her family. On that, her mind would never change. He deserved pain and suffering, he deserved it all and more, but she couldn’t be the one to do it. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—lower herself to his level. There couldn’t be blood on her hands, her soul.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But just because he lived didn’t mean he was absolved. There was no forgiveness to be found in that moment. She knew there never would be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t until they were back with Appa that the tears came. She held the reins in her hands, her grip so tight her knuckles were going pale, and she sobbed and sobbed as the rain continued to pour over them. Zuko sat behind her and didn’t say a word as she leaned back into him, into the warmth and comfort he freely gave her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She broke down against him until Yue was high in the sky. Wiping her eyes, she started to rebuild her internal defenses, brick by brick. Through it all, he held himself still, a pillar for her to cling to, strong and unmoving. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Laughter from the house slipped through the air, making its way down to the beach, where Zuko sat alone. It was still difficult sometimes to find where he fit with them, even after all they’d been through together since the Day of the Black Sun. Being alone felt easier, less of an embarrassed, confused burden on his nerves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, with no one else around to talk to or laugh with (…or laugh at), the dark thoughts he tried to bury came rushing back to the surface of his mind. The situation with Uncle plagued him, nearly sending him dizzy with self-recrimination. He hoped so badly that they would find each other again and he could apologize, but at the same time, he couldn’t imagine Uncle forgiving him. He wouldn’t forgive himself for what he did. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t, </span>
  </em>
  <span>in fact. And while nothing about it was easy, he knew it was better this way, being in the wrong rather than having to survive rejection.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then there was the rest of his family. Soon, his father would be dead. Some moments, he was more than ready for the world to be rid of such an evil man. Others, he only hated himself more for feeling that way—yes, Ozai was cruel, and everything and everyone would be better off without him. But he was also Zuko’s father, and though he didn’t have many happy memories of the man, he did have some. (And didn’t it make him just as bad as him, being involved in the death of a family member like this?)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Azula… he could hardly stand to linger on her. This place only served to remind him of what she’d been like as a child, and missing her ached in his chest more with every day that passed. But she wasn’t that little girl anymore, and he couldn’t see an end to this where they both lived, where they were both able to be happy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It would be the end of this broken family in one way or another.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing, he pushed his face into his knees. Why did everything have to be so damn hard?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Behind him, the sound of footsteps in the sand came, heading for where he sat. He didn’t lift his head, sure that whoever it was would want to give him some kind of pep-talk, which was the last thing he wanted. Now or ever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The person sat down a little too close. Peeking between his fringe, he saw it was Katara and decided maybe he wouldn’t scoot away just yet. In her Fire Nation gear, she was beautiful, though a not-insignificant part of him missed her normal blues. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ever since the confrontation with Yon Rha, things between them had been different. They still annoyed each other, but it was nothing like before, where he could do nothing right. When he offered to help with the chores, she accepted now, and they talked while they worked together to dry newly clean clothes or grill the fish they had for dinner. She was funny in a way that none of the others really seemed to get, but he always found himself amused by her jokes. He’d even laughed once; he couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hardly even thought anymore before he’d sit beside her, or stand closer to her than anyone else. He could see the weight of their group’s future and safety on her shoulders—she handled it well on her own, but sometimes it slipped, and he was there to help her pick it back up. When they walked around, she naturally fell into step with him, or him with her. More than once, he’d been halfway through the motions of taking her hand before he realized what he was doing and made himself stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Embarrassingly, his dreams had begun to appreciate their new proximity. Even worse, he couldn’t even blame his hormones when all they ever did was hug like they had on the dock, holding tight to each other, her scent filling his lungs. Well, maybe that wasn’t all they did. But he was pretty sure hormones also couldn’t be blamed for the kind of domestic scenes that danced through his subconscious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Katara’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. “I’m sorry about earlier. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have even gone in there, let alone touched anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head. “No, it’s… it’s fine. I’d forgotten she’d kept so many of her jewels here.” Awkwardly, he added, “I thought the rings looked good on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Katara let out a nervous laugh, her fingers coming up to play in her hair. She was always doing that around him, and it was damnably distracting. He could see how soft it was and just wanted to touch it, run his own fingers through it, but he was sure that Katara wouldn’t want that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? I thought Toph rocked the necklace. And you know how beautiful Suki is, everything she tried on just looked amazing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, yeah—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But still. I know if someone went snooping around in my mom’s stuff—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Katara, really, it’s fine. She’d want someone to get some use of them. I’d let you have whatever you want from it, honestly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…Except?” She asked, meeting his eyes. There was concern there on the surface, and layers of unreadable depths below it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hated not knowing what someone was thinking, not having the full picture of their emotions so he could know how to react. But with her, there was no fear, no worry. However he reacted, however he answered, she wouldn’t blow up on him or turn her back or anything like that. He trusted her. Even with this, he trusted her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The day of the invasion, I confronted my father. He was trying to stall me, so he started telling me all this stuff about my mother. How she’d poisoned my grandfather to protect me—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. It’s kind of a long story? My cousin died, so Uncle was left without an heir. Father kept badgering Grandfather about how he had two heirs and should be made the Crown Prince instead of Uncle. My grandfather didn’t like that, and told him that if he wanted to be the next Fire Lord, he would have to feel the same pain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The same pain…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Losing your first-born son. Azula overheard and told me about it. I didn’t believe her. But the next day, I woke up and… Grandfather was dead and Mother was gone. Just gone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded and had to take a moment to just breathe lest he cry all over her. Though he’d had a long time to get used to the idea of his family being cruel, his mother’s death had always felt impossible to get over. It still choked him up even knowing she could be out there. “He told me… he told me my mother might be alive somewhere. He didn’t have her killed, just banished.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Zuko,” she breathed, “That’s wonderful! Are you going to look for her? You are, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to,” he admitted lowly, vulnerability prickling at the base of his spine. If this had been Azula, she would have had a field day with this piece of leverage. Instead, Katara just silently encouraged him to keep going, her presence itself a comfort to him. “But I just keep thinking… she must know I was banished too. It’s not like it was a secret that I was gone, or a traitor or a fugitive. Why didn’t she ever try to find me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t have to say what he thought the answer was: either she was dead, or she was alive and just didn’t want to find him. Which was worse? They both cut right through him the same, but still, he almost hoped it was the second. At least that way, she was still alive. Probably living a much better life away from the palace and everyone in it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure there’s a reason.” Hesitantly, she reached out and laid a hand on his back, rubbing up and down his spine softly. He’d seen her do it for Toph and Aang, even Sokka once or twice, and he’d wondered how it could be soothing. It seemed very obvious to him now; he couldn’t help but lean back into the grounding feeling of her touch, accepting her comfort. “I’m sure she wants to get back to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re her son, of course she’d want that. She loved you, didn’t she?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He remembered, suddenly, what Uncle had said. How she’d seen he was weak when he was just an infant. Then he thought of the years they’d had each other, the good memories he still cherished, the way he’d mourned her for years. Was that love? “I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a few moments, they were both quiet. Sensing that she was thinking about what to say next, he kept his mouth shut and prayed she didn’t stop touching him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, she said, “Well, if she didn’t, she was missing out. You deserve to be loved, Zuko.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her words settled in his chest heavily. They hurt to hear, but it didn’t cut him to the bone; rather, it felt clean. Healing, almost, like it was flushing out some of the years-worth of infection that came with being who he was—Ozai’s son, the banished prince. When she said it, he could almost believe it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Katara,” he whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hesitated again before leaning into his side, her head on his shoulder. He forced himself to stay relaxed under her touch, gradually losing the tension in his body. Together, they stared up at Yue, just existing in the moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t cool out even though it was night, but Katara shivered against him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What’s wrong?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wanted to ask, awkwardly wrapping his arm around her back and turning up his body heat some. She sighed in relief and tucked her face down, her knees coming up to fold against her chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was fine. He could just keep holding her. She’d known him how good back rubs felt, maybe he could return the favor? In the meantime, they could just have some quiet time. That sounded really nice to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, without thinking, he asked, ”Do you want to talk about her?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your… your mother. We could talk about her if you want. I just mean, we talked about mine, so….”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not—we don’t have to. You don’t have to like, pay me back for listening to you, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, but if you do want to, I’m here to listen. She… seems like a really amazing woman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Katara smiled. It was soft, less strained than before. “She was. Ever since we took our trip, it’s been easier to think of the happy memories rather than the last time I saw her. I miss her a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zuko shut his eyes, flashes of that day returning to him—his mother’s beautiful hair, swishing around her shoulders; the way she walked, purposeful and graceful, never too fast for him to keep up with; her back as she walked away, never to be seen again. To some degree, he knew what Katara felt, the guilt and fear and obsession to see this grief through. But their situations were different. He’d hardly been able to miss his mother, hardly let himself. He’d never had proof, before, that she was dead. Shamefully, gratefulness rose inside of him—he wouldn’t have been able to withstand that agonizing truth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me about her?” He asked around the lump in his throat, holding her a little tighter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t react to his grip changing except to collapse further into his side, soaking up comfort he wasn’t even sure he was giving. “She broke my dad’s friend Bato’s ankle once when they were kids. They were out on the ice, trying to hunt whatever they could find…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was getting to be light out when they finally went back inside the house on Ember Island, both of them exhausted and cried out from hours of sharing stories, but feeling lighter all the same. Zuko didn’t think before pressing a kiss to her forehead as they went back to their rooms; Katara simply smiled and fell asleep, dreaming of her mom.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider leaving a comment, thanks! &lt;3</p><p>You can find me on tumblr at <a href="https://dottie-wan-kenobi.tumblr.com">dottie-wan-kenobi</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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